Text Speak
by truetest
Summary: Because, well, we can't all be brave all the time. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** This little idea came into my head and then exploded, leaving me to clean up the pieces of my mind in the aftermath; the collage I made from those pieces is this story. _ Also, it is _not_easy to type in text speak. I wanted to beat my head into the wall every time my word processor auto-corrected a purposely misspelled word.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**u no I luved u from the 1st time i herd u sing**

Sam sighed, his breath entering and leaving his lungs in a rushing sound that was loud even to _his_ears. He stared hard at the screen on his phone, the cursor blinking mockingly at the end of the sentence he'd just typed out.

His thumb hovered over the send button, but in the end, like the coward he was, he chickened out. He scrolled down to the next option, _'Save as Draft'_, and the screen flickered, _'Message Saved.'_Sam lowered the phone and the light from the screen died, leaving him with the same thoughts that this little routine always brought on.

'You are such a wuss. You can't even confess how you feel in a _text message_. You're going to lose out, you know. He's not psychic, idiot, he can't just guess how you feel.'

He fell backwards from where he'd been sitting on the edge of his bed, arms spread wide and eyes closed tight. He'd been doing this for a week, this start-stop-save pattern, and it had gotten him nowhere; the only thing it left him with was thirty saved drafts on his phone, all addressed to _Recipient: Kurt Hummel_.

He'd gotten Kurt's number from Facebook, being one of only 56 people to have access to the otherwise fully locked profile (the rest were the other New Directions members and Dalton boys). When he'd been exploring Kurt's page, Sam noticed that Kurt's number was posted… And before he'd actively known what he was doing, the digits were in his phone.

Sam had lost count of the number of times he almost pressed the call button; he'd sit there and stare at his phone for five minutes, trying to psyche himself up to just tap the name on the touch screen. In seconds it would connect him to Kurt's phone, to his voice, giving Sam the chance to say _something_, or if not that, at least to let Kurt have his number. Not that he thought Kurt answering and speaking to him would do any good, seeing as how he was completely tongue-tied when it came to Kurt. The interactions he'd had with Kurt had always gotten Sam one of two reactions: case number one being the 'You Are Such a Dork' smirk; case number two being the 'This Is So Awkward I Need to Get Away Now' look. The former sent Sam's heart racing, but the latter made said heart drop into his stomach.

Well, that was back when he at least got to _see_Kurt on a day-to-day basis. Now… Now the countertenor was at Dalton, home on some weekends, but Sam knew all too well that he wasn't exactly the first person Kurt thought of upon his return to Lima. Sure, he knew that every now and then most of New Directions would gather at someone's house to see Kurt, but… Well, no one really thought Sam had any reason to come and he was too scared to invite himself. It's not like he and Kurt were even really friends.

At least when Kurt was actually around all the time it had been easy for Sam to fantasize about slowly getting closer to Kurt, about becoming his friend and then something more as time passed around them.

But the unfortunate reality of the situation was that Sam was a coward - it was somewhat funny considering how he'd practically bulldozed his way into a relationship with Quinn. And starting that relationship was wrong of him to begin with, especially since thoughts of Kurt lingered in his mind due to his confusion about the whole duets thing.

He first discovered he was a coward when he realized that he might actually have feelings for Kurt, but had continued dating Quinn anyway.

It wasn't like he didn't love Quinn or that he was leading her on; he genuinely wanted to see her happy, _wanted_ her. But even after the seeds for liking Kurt in _that_way started growing, he couldn't find it in himself to break his promises to her.

So he shoved his feelings for Kurt into a corner of his mind and left them there to hopefully die out, scared as he was to let himself get any more involved.

That loathsome cowardice didn't end with staying with Quinn, however. It manifested itself in the way he started following Kurt with his eyes, but never made a move to get closer. He watched from a distance, observing Kurt's arrogance and strong armor, and wondering what lay beneath it all. Kurt's hidden kindness and depth of feeling came out when he let his mask slip around his closest friends; Sam had heard from Quinn just how caring and considerate Kurt could be.

He thought about him almost constantly, and saw how he suffered in the halls. Still, though, he did nothing to stop the bullying. He never confronted the people who threatened Kurt, shoved him into lockers, threw him into dumpsters, and slushied him in the hallways. He shrank away from doing anything with the sad excuse _'What could I really do? We'd just both end up hurt even more.'_He was scared, he was scared and he knew it, and the guilt from not having the guts to protect someone he cared for nearly ate him alive.

Where his feelings for Quinn were light-hearted and happy, his feelings for Kurt were intense and frightening.

But he couldn't completely stay away.

He talked to Kurt fleetingly in the halls and in glee, mind brimming with words to say. Afraid, he held them firmly behind his teeth, and because he couldn't speak, the interaction was strained and he fumbled - making it so he couldn't even get close enough to call himself Kurt's friend. And what friend would do the things he did? He ran away every time he saw a fellow jock coming with a tell-tale cup in their hands, after all.

He manned up and did get in one good punch when it all became too much and Artie was attacked in the locker room, but he never said all the things he wanted to say.

His punishment for his weak will and cowardice came in the form of Kurt's breathless announcement: he'd be transferring to Dalton immediately.

When the words had left Kurt's mouth, Sam's hand on Quinn's had tightened to a death grip, his heart lodging in his throat and his pulse pounding so loud in his ears that he missed the reactions of everyone around him. He was deaf to the chatter, and couldn't hear a word that Quinn was saying as she spoke to him in low tones. His whole body felt cold and then hot, pin-pricks like waking limbs racing out from his stomach, his hands going clammy even as he continued to harshly hold Quinn's soft, small hand. He got himself together only after too many minutes, but even then the world was still dark.

Because he'd known, hadn't he? He'd known since he saw that text on Kurt's phone from someone named Blaine.

He'd known, and he'd seen the look on that sweet face, saw him give a smile that reached his eyes for the first time in weeks. Of course Sam was too late.

_Courage._It was certainly something that Sam was desperately lacking.

The coward who was too afraid to race lost by default, after all.

So when Kurt had told them, told _him_his decision, Sam went numb. When he left, a piece of Sam left with him. Despite his initial reaction to the news, Sam stil tried to tell himself it was a fleeting crush, a physical attraction that would die the longer he was with Quinn and the further away Kurt was. But one month later it wasn't dead at all; if anything the feeling inside him was burning him from his core to his skin, and it was hard to stay focussed on anything anymore.

His grades slipped, and he knew that he'd fucked up almost all of his final exams. The words had scrambled in his mind worse than ever, letters breaking off and regrouping into things that made no sense. They turned backwards and upside down on the paper, and he couldn't make his hands write what he needed to and nothing was clear at all.

He lost his appetite; he broke up with Quinn. He lost the skip in his step and the smile in his eyes and when she couldn't do anything to bring it back she left. She didn't know the cause of his depression - no one did - and only watched with sad eyes as Sam slipped further away and drifted through the days.

The regret in Sam was overwhelming sometimes. He thought of Kurt so much it was driving him crazy. He went even crazier when he thought of him with someone else, someone who wasn't a coward, who had stepped up and tried to make Kurt happy. These thoughts crushed Sam into dust, because he knew, he _knew_that the chance was gone.

Or at least that's what he'd convinced himself was true.

He left his phone on his bed and stood, walking to his computer and sitting down. His mind threatened to spin into a downward spiral, so he logged onto Facebook in desperation to see if Kurt had posted anything new.

(He knew how pathetic he was.)

He pulled up Kurt's profile and glanced at the latest post, the same one that had been there since December 24th, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas… Today was the 30th. He sighed heavily and wondered for the millionth time where Kurt was, what he was doing, and wished that Kurt would throw him a bone and update his status.

He sighed heavily and opened up the chat, one name catching his attention:

Mercedes Jones.

He brought his cursor over and clicked on her name, the chat box popping up. He gathered himself, releasing a breath and typing a message and hitting "enter" before his nerves caught up with him.

**u herd nething from kurt? he nvr checks his fb**.

He held his breath for the full two minutes she took to respond.

_hi to u 2._

He blinked at her response, but it was the typical catty girl he knew. He started to type an apology, but she beat him with her next message.

_my boy is good. home for the holidays. y?_

Sam hesitated, nerves tingling under his skin. He bit his lip, exhaled, shut down his whirring mind, and typed back.

**havnt seen him sinse he left n wanted 2 no if he was ok.**

He waited again. She was definitely taking her sweet time responding, in Sam's opinion.

_see 4 urself. come to the new year's party at his and finn's. starts 8._

He answered before he could stop himself.

**ill b thare. ttyl**

_bye_

Sam closed his browser and leaned back in his computer chair, eyes blanking as he zoned out staring at the screen.

The thought of seeing Kurt filled him with both dread and joy, and made his brain overload with what if's and possibilities.

What if Kurt had a boyfriend? What if he brought that boyfriend with him to the party? What would Sam do then? Would Sam finally be able to tell him how he felt? If he did, would he make an ass of himself? What if Kurt ignored him? What if Sam couldn't say anything?

…What if everything went right and they talked all night and kissed when the clock struck midnight?

He shut his eyes and dropped his head back, stomach suddenly twisting with nerves and fear, that cowardice creeping up from the back of his mind. What would he do if he kissed Kurt? What then? How would he deal with being labelled gay and subjected to the same bullying that Kurt had dealt with? Could he even deal with that at all? He was terrified of being hated, of being treated like garbage when he'd managed to start over at this school as someone popular. Would it be worth it to expose the other half of his sexuality when he didn't even know if Kurt would return his feelings?

He raised his hands and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, grimacing.

He pushed those thoughts away, tired of feeling scared, and tried to calm himself. He had get his brain to shut up for just a _second_so he could clearly assess the situation.

He could see Kurt on New Years Eve. It would be the first time he'd physically seen him since the day he left McKinley. He hadn't even had the guts to contact him, be it via Facebook message, text, or phone call. What could he possibly say now to get Kurt's attention? What kind of person would Kurt think he was if he told him just how long he'd been in love when Sam had hardly done anything to be there for him in his time of need? He just… he didn't know.

But he wouldn't know unless he tried.

And he was so fucking sick of running.

He wanted Kurt to the point where he was damaging himself with depression over the fact that he hadn't seen him in two months. It was clear that he couldn't continue on the way that he was, because the more time passed, the more he fell apart internally. He was this pathetic mess that was lost in a whirlwind of overpowering feelings, and he knew that it was time he did something about it.

He glanced over to where his phone lay innocently on his bed, his mind blazing with a newfound resolve. His eyes hardened and his brows furrowed as he rose from his chair, determined, and snatched his phone from the bed. He pushed a button and the phone came alive with light. His breathing was firm and steady as he unlocked the phone and went to his text messages, opening his drafts and sending out the first one highlighted.

**u no I luved u from the 1st time i herd u sing**

His eyes widened, he exhaled forcefully.

And then he had a panic attack.

First his breathing picked up sharply, and he wheezed heavily as he started hyperventilating and his thoughts went into overdrive, racing across his mind in and feeding into an inferno of doubt and second-guessing and fear and _ohgod what did I do?_

His hands started shaking and his vision went fuzzy as he collapsed onto the ground, gripping his head in his hands, eyes unseeing but moving rapidly. His pulse was going haywire, beating in his temple louder and louder until it was all he could hear and his ears rang from the noise.

A knock sounded at the door, snatching him out of his hysteria temporarily. He manually slowed his breathing, willing himself to calm down so that no one else would know what was going on.

A worried female voice came gently from the other side of the door.

"Sam? Sam, are you okay? We heard something hit the floor really hard just now… Did you fall? …Sam?"

He choked on his air as he struggled to breathe. He inhaled sharply before trying to speak.

"I… I'm… I'm fine. Tripped on a shoe. I'm good."

He deserved an award for his voice not breaking as he spoke.

His mother hesitated, and the knob to his door turned, but then she seemed to think better of it, and must have decided not to enter. Sam was grateful; his face was flushed red and he knew he was sweating, badly.

"If you're sure. Let me know if you need anything, okay? And dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, so make sure you're down by then."

He let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and starting to pull himself up off the floor, using the edge of his bed as support.

"Sure, Mom. I'll be down in time."

He waited until he heard her footsteps fall away before he let himself drop to the bed, face buried in his pillow as he shook in the aftermath of his "episode."

His thoughts flooded with the possible outcomes of sending that one little message. After all, Finn and Quinn had his number, and it would be easy for Kurt to ask one of them if they recognized it.

But then again, Kurt had no reason to suspect Sam. And the only other people who really had access to Kurt's profile were the Dalton boys and a few scattered others - those would be the only people who could get Kurt's phone number. If Kurt's suspicions went in that direction, then he wouldn't have any need to ask Finn or Quinn whose number it was.

But the message also had the damn area code (he cursed his parents for changing his number when they moved), and there couldn't have been that many students at Dalton from nearby cities…

_Fuck._Just… fuck.

He heard the sound of an opening a chest in _The Legend of Zelda_, and he almost felt the panic take him again. He managed to shove it down, however, and sat up to look at his phone where he'd dropped it on the floor. He moved to pick it up.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

He froze for a moment before his thumb unlocked the phone and revealed the message.

_Who is this? I hope you know who you sent that last message to, because if this is a joke, I am most certainly not amused. I don't appreciate being messed with by some fool who can't even spell properly._

Okay, so. Not quite the reaction he'd expected, but he'd take this as a good sign; Kurt wasn't really flipping out that much, and he hadn't called immediately like Sam had expected him to. He opted to reply quickly.

**i'm not messing w/ u. i no this is kurt. i don't want u 2 no who i am yet. sry i can't spell. i'm not gud w/ words. but im 4 real. im in luv w/ u**

Sam looked over that message before sending it. Did Kurt know he was dyslexic? But fuck, it wasn't like Sam could take the time to look up how to spell everything before responding. He'd have to take his chances with it.

He hit send.

He stared hard at his phone, chewing his lip as he waited for a reply. A moment later the opening theme to _Inspector Gadget_ blared to life, the phone flashing _Incoming Call From: Kurt Hummel_. Hearing his ringtone scared the shit out of him, making him almost jump off the bed from where he lay on his stomach.

His mind frantically thought about his voicemail, and he remembered that, thankfully, he'd been too lazy to set it up. All it the automated voice would repeat was his number.

The theme soon died off, and his phone gave three beeps to signify the missed call. Sam exhaled, lowering his phone and trying to wrap his head around exactly what was going on. The _Zelda_tune sounded again.

_Okay, I'll hand it to you - it's clever that you don't have you're voicemail set up. At least you're not as much of an idiot prankster as I originally assumed. But you know it's only a matter of time until I figure out who you are. I'm not above tracing this number._

Sam thought quickly, trying to think up something to cover his ass and get Kurt to back off for a minute so that he could maintain his anonymity for a bit longer.

**don't find me yet. im not reedy 2 say who i am. ill tell u later, but 4 now just let me talk 2 u. pleas.**

The reply came quickly:

_Fine. Talk. I'll decide whether or not I actually believe you at a later date._

Sam started to type something back, but was interrupted by another incoming message from Kurt. That boy could text far faster than Sam could ever dream to.

_I expect you to reveal yourself soon, however, and if you don't do so by New Years then I'll have your number blocked. I'm considering going ahead and doing that now. You're from Lima or somewhere close to that hell hole, and there isn't anyone there I'm willing to believe would say they "luv" me._

Sam smiled slightly to himself. At least Kurt had agreed to his terms; he realized that Kurt really had no reason to give an unknown person any chance in hell, especially someone so obviously from Lima. This told Sam that something in Kurt was cracking - he had to be lonely. If he had a boyfriend he would have said as much in his text.

But instead, he was giving this a shot.

**thnx. u rlly r amazing. dinner now, ill txt u later**

And with that, Sam bounced down the stairs, the first real smile he'd had in weeks plastered on his face. His stomach grumbled angrily, and he realized that he hadn't eaten all day.

His appetite was back in full force.

* * *

It was when Sam started helping himself to his third heap of mashed potatoes in under ten minutes that Alicen Evans shared a questioning look with her husband. They hadn't seen Sam eat like this in weeks - not to mention the fact that he'd been moping that whole time - but now he was suddenly tearing into his meal and he'd actually been _smiling_when he came down the stairs.

He'd greeted them with a happy "Smells great!" and then proceeded to eat double portions without saying another word.

Something had to be up.

Charles Evans put his cutlery down on his plate and turned to his son.

"Sam."

Sam looked up at him, swallowing heavily before answering.

"What's up Dad?"

He glanced back at his wife.

"Did something… Happen? You seem… happy," he finished, unsure of how to word what he was really trying to say.

"Um," Sam glanced between his parents, "Am I not supposed to be?"

Charles scratched the back of his neck, something that he'd actually picked up from his son.

"Well, it's not that… It's just…" he looked at Alicen, eyes begging for some help with this. She cleared her throat.

"You've been acting odd this last month, honey, and, well… It just seems as though something changed in you tonight. We're just curious is all."

Sam looked back and forth between his parents, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Nah, nothing really _happened_, I just feel like... things are gonna be okay."

His mother smiled gently at him.

"Good. I'm glad."

And with that Sam turned back to his plate and resumed shoveling food into his mouth. A few minutes later he sat back and released a satisfied belch, which his mother immediately scolded him for. He smiled sheepishly, mumbled a "sorry" and asked to be excused.

He took the steps two at a time, racing into his room and grabbing his phone up off his bed.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

Sam flopped on his bed, smiling, and opened the message.

_Enjoy your dinner. Wash your hands before and try to remember to use a fork and not your fingers._

Sam's grin spread wider. God, he'd missed Kurt more than he thought he had. Just getting a message from Kurt was enough to get him to act like a happy idiot.

**wat if i was eating soup? cant use forks then**

He waited, glancing at his clock, which told him it was 8:00 P.M.

His phone signaled Link opening another treasure chest and Sam hurriedly checked the message.

_It's called a spoon, oh special one. Though I'm sure you're unfamiliar with the concept and prefer to slurp yours straight from the bowl. I hope you wear a bib, but then again, your clothes probably deserve to be stained and ruined._

Kurt was definitely still on the defensive, but Sam honestly didn't care if Kurt spent the next half hour bitching him out for no reason. And anyway, this would keep things interesting.

**i ddont dress that bad. and how else r u sposed 2 get all the soup if u dont drink it?**

_If I ever catch you drinking soup from a bowl I will slap it into your face._

**hey hey calm down. nobody neds 2 slap any1 w/ soup.**

_That remains to be seen._

Sam hesitated, unsure of what to send next, but desperately wanting to keep up the conversation.

**wut r u doin?**

_Trying to find some way to compare the concept of accepting death in three works of literature that have almost nothing to do with each other. It speaks volumes that I would rather talk to you and read your god awful chat-speak than agonize over this paper anymore than I already have._

**sounds like it sux. sorryy u dont like how i tipe, but i cant text fast ne other way. u alrdy r faster then me**

_I'll forgive you then. I do have exemplary texting skills, after all. But you really should work on it, as you sound like a twelve year old girl using the internet for the first time._

Sam bit his lip, holding back a laugh.

**harsh dude. fine, than ill try to be better about it**

_Ugh, somehow you lose your charm when you text like a normal person. How tragic, considering you must sacrifice grammatical aptitude in order to maintain said charming disposition._

Sam paused, frowning, because... Um, _what?_

**so is it gud or bad 2 text like i norrmally do?**

_Text how you will. I can't stop you anyway._

Sam frowned again.

**but if it annoys you i shoold try to do it rite**

_You annoy me anyway, so it's really not that big of a deal._

Sam didn't let that comment damper his mood at all.

**than y r u still talking 2 me if i annoy u so much. u think im cute**

_It's not about whether or not I think you're cute. At this point I'll take anything that will to get me to stop reading Tolstoy. I suppose you're actually a welcome distraction and I really shouldn't complain._

Sam was a little put off, but took a deep breath and tried to think about Kurt's position; he had no reason to trust that Sam had good intentions, so of course he would try to put him off.

But it was a good thing that Kurt preferred his, uh… text company over writing a paper. Sam sighed. Hell, he'd take what he could get.

Feeling a little better, he decided to play it flirtatiously, hoping to get a rise out of Kurt.

**i culd distract u in other ways ;-)**

Kurt's reply took longer than the previous few, and when five minutes passed, Sam started to worry that maybe he'd fucked something up. He snatched his phone off his chest immediately when his admittedly nerdy ringtone sounded.

_Oh really now?_

Sam smiled and sat up, crossing his legs indian-style and hunching over slightly as he replied.

**im gud at watt i do. and id do alot of distracting things 2 u**

_You're unbelievable. Good god, who says these things? You made me laugh, though, I'll give you that. :-) _

Sam's grin took over his face - it was truly pathetic how one little smiley face could light up his whole world. But he wouldn't think about that just yet. For now, he would enjoy how good he felt. He made to reply, but before he could enter even one letter, a new text appeared.

_So what, pray tell, are the things you like about me?_

Sam's mind immediately supplied him with all the things that made Kurt amazing: his smile and his laugh; the way he took on everyone around him in a silent challenge as he walked down the halls; the way he was still big hearted even after so much abuse; how his eyes lit up when he talked about music or fashion; how beautiful he looked even when those eyes were sad and lonely; how he was snotty; how he said whatever was on his mind; the way he bitch-snarked at people he deemed weren't worth his time; the way he coddled people he loved; how he stood up for his friends.

But all Sam could come up with to send was:

**i dunno**

He bit his lip and thought and replied as fast as he could with the first thing that made it from his brain to his fingertips.

**the way u walk like ur not afraid of ne1**

It took Kurt another few minutes to reply.

_…The way I walk. Seriously?_

**4 srs. :-p the way ur so confadent. how u face down every1**

_Well I am better than everyone else, after all._

Sam laughed out loud - he could just see Kurt scoffing and sweeping his bangs to the side with his fingertips.

**i'm glad u no u r. u shod no and u shod smile coz of it all the time. i like it when u smile.**

_My smile?_

Sam nodded, even though Kurt couldn't see him.

**when u rlly smile and ur eyes lite up.**

It took Kurt longer than usual to respond to that message, just like when Sam had sent the suggestive "distraction" text. Sam's nerves clenched his overly-full stomach - they were absent when the texting was constant, but if Sam had time to sit and think about their conversation, anxiety started to bubble up from his gut - and that was definitely not a good thing.

His phone lit up again, easing Sam's restlessness.

_You are outrageously cheesy and overly cliche, sir. (I'm assuming you're male, or I'm sorry to tell you that you really have no chance in hell with me.) You'll have to do better than these watered-down compliments if you want me to believe you are truly interested._

**im definately a dude. and mebbe cliche but it's all true. i think ur beutiful.**

_And I think you're touched._

Sam blinked.

**wat did i touch?**

_…Touched in the head, oh anonymous one. It means you're crazy._

**u r if u can't see ur so amazing. i thot u were better then every1 else?**

_I am. But that doesn't mean you can get away with ridiculous comments about me being "beutiful."_

**ill get away w/ watever u let me ;-p**

_You're shameless. And sad as it makes me to leave you now, I really must get back to this monstrosity of an assignment. Good night._

**nite. txt if u get bored again. ill b waiting**

_Don't wait up._

Sam sighed and flopped down on his back again, staying there for a moment before starting to laugh to himself, grin splitting his face. He forced any anxious thoughts about the future away and basked in the fact that Kurt wasn't rejecting him outright, that he'd see him tomorrow night. In that moment, Sam thought to himself:

'Maybe everything will be okay.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:**BLEH. Here's chapter two, though it's shorter than chapter one (this one is only about 3,650 words as opposed to 5,100). I felt that the stopping point was appropriate, however, and so this is what you get for now :p

Also, panicky!Sam is panicky. _

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sam didn't receive anymore texts from Kurt that night, and though it did disappoint him, he sort of understood that he was busy and couldn't really waste time texting some secret admirer.

Despite knowing this, he couldn't help but feel restless all through the night. After all, Kurt was basically an obsession for Sam, and to have even the barest hint of a taste of his attention left him craving more. As a result of this half-anxious state, he hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep. He'd fallen asleep late and woken up early, and now here he was, sitting up in bed and holding his phone, typing up a text at seven in the morning.

**good morning beutiful. did u sleep well? i culdn't… its ok tho, cuz i was thnkin about u all nite :-)**

…Okay, so maybe he was being overly corny, but that was sort of his trademark - Quinn had spent most of their relationship laughing at his dorky ways of being romantic or his dorkyness in general. She wasn't trying to be mean or anything, but it did make Sam aware of the fact that he wasn't the smoothest operator around.

His phone rang out in his hand, and he smiled at the incoming text.

_I hope you realize that the time is currently 7:00 A.M. You should also be aware that you have disrupted my peaceful rest with your obnoxious text message. And I'll have you know that once I'm up, I can't go back to sleep. You should feel terrible about what you've done._

Well _someone_ was most certainly not a morning person. Sam smiled a little anyway, pleased that he didn't have to wait hours for a response - then again, Kurt was the type of person to leave his phone on and next to him in case of emergencies (or something).

**i didn't meen 2 wake u up. i thot it wuld b nice 2 wake up 2 a good morning text. u no u liked it even if ur in a bad mood now. im so nice u have 2 luv me back :-)**

_I can't say that I appreciate the gesture, considering I will now have bags under my eyes all day and I have a party to attend this evening. Thanks to you I will now look like Mary Kate Olsen on a bad day._

Sam chuckled, starting to type something back about how it would only make Kurt cuter when he received another message.

Damn that boy was fast.

_And you have yet to give me any reason to "luv" you back. If you even really love me like you say you do. That, and you are the king of corny lines._

Sam sighed heavily, wondering what he could do to convince Kurt that he wasn't just some random person playing a mean joke on him.

**like i sed last nite, they mebbe corny but thare all tru. and i wish u culd no how much i luv u. u would b supprised. and i don't think u culd ever look bad, even if u didn't get much sleep. u prolly look cute rite now**

_Cute is most definitely not the word I would use to describe my present condition. And the only thing I'd be surprised about is if you actually turned out to be genuine about the things you've said to me._

**than ill just keep sayin it til u beleeve me. im in luv w/ u. even when ur grumpy like rite now ;-P**

_I'll wait until I find out who you are, and only then will I decide whether or not I think you love me. Don't forget that your deadline is tonight by midnight. I'll need a name and a picture. If you give me anything less than that then I will cut you off completely. I don't want to waste my time, after all._

Sam's stomach was doing flip-flops at the thought of revealing himself to Kurt, but that was in the future and this was now and he just _really_ didn't want to think about how everything would work out.

Besides, he'd decided last night that maybe things would turn out okay. So they had to be okay. Because that was how the world worked.

Right?

A new message appeared on his phone.

_Also, I am not grumpy. I just prefer to have coffee before I am forced to face the world. And the world definitely includes trite attempts at love confessions made by someone who insists on remaining anonymous._

Sam smiled.

**sounds like ur grumpy 2 me. grumpelstiltskin**

_…How is it that you can't use or spell any form of the "there" homonyms, but know how to correctly spell Rumpelstiltskin? You confound me._

Sam had long since been brushing off people's comments on his poor spelling and general misuse of words, so that rolled off his back easily. Instead he smirked, proud that he had shown himself not to be a complete idiot.

**wat can i say im a supprising kinda guy. i no more things then u think. besides i grew up on grimm bros. storees. i no wat im talkin about**

_Well I must admit that I am surprised to learn this about you. And point for you, you've gotten me curious about what else lies beneath your caveman-like speech._

The smile splitting Sam's face absolutely could not be helped.

**u can ask watever u want 2 no**

_I'll take you up on that. Who are you?_

**well exsept 4 that. u no i cant tell u yet**

_You're going to tell me soon enough anyway, why not get it out of the way now? …Or are you and your buddies having too good of a laugh over all this? Neandrathals are amused at even the lowest forms of entertainment._

Sam scratched the back of his neck, mouth slanted and brows furrowed. He had to admit that it was somewhat frustrating to keep telling Kurt that he was in love, yet have him shoot down his confession at every turn. Not that he could blame him - this wasn't exactly the best medium to go about confessing, after all… Especially since he was approaching Kurt anonymously.

And then there was the ominous reveal that would have to come later that night. Well… There was always the option of leaving it alone, of running away and never getting the chance to talk to Kurt again as his phone number would be blocked.

But hadn't he already decided? He had to be brave. So before midnight, he would say something, and Kurt would have to accept that it was all for real.

And that was that.

…Right?

**i still havve til midnite. u shold wait til then. i promis u will no by then. but 4 now pashence is a virtue. and im not laughing. i wish u wold beleeve me when i say i wnat u**

_Up until now all it's been is "I love you." Now you say you want me? What exactly do you mean by that?_

He exhaled and let his fingers fly.

**it means exactly wat it says. i wantt 2 be w/ u. i want u 2 smile at me and hold my hand. i want 2 kiss u. i want 2 do more then kiss u. if u wold let me. if u wold give it 2 me id want everyything**

Sam sent it, and waited.

Kurt's reply was taking far too long. Five minutes passed, and there was no sign of a new text (regardless of how many times he checked his phone). The ten minute mark was fast approaching, and now Sam had trouble swallowing as his heart was lodged unpleasantly in his throat.

He'd been through more anxious moments over the last 24 hours than he had in the entirety of Life Before Kurt.

When ten minutes passed and there was still no reply, Sam stood from his bed, phone in hand, and walked toward his bathroom. He needed to do something to take his mind off of everything for a minute, and a shower sounded like it might do the trick.

He'd still leave his phone on his sink, of course, just in case.

He turned on the hot water and undressed quickly, tossing his dirty clothes into his room where they crash-landed on the floor amidst the other piles of clothes. As he looked out into his room he wondered to himself what Kurt's room would look like.

It was probably super clean and organized. Kurt seemed like an OCD kind of guy, if how he managed his hair was anything to go by.

He smiled at that, then turned and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water roll down his body and wash away the tension he felt. He went about the motions of his shower routine, and the familiarity eased his anxiety, allowing him to relax for the first time since he'd logged onto Facebook the night before.

He finished his shower and shut it off, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist. He glanced at his sink and saw his phone had lit up - he must have just gotten a message or a missed call - and quickly made to go pick it up, drying his hands as fast as humanly possible.

There were three new messages. He checked them in the order in which they were received.

_Message 1:_

Those are some pretty heavy desires you have there, Mr. Anonymous. You have a lot to prove to me before I'd even entertain the thought of giving myself over to you. Smiles and kisses don't come cheaply, you know.

Message 2:

I can't help but get my hopes up, however foolish it may be. I don't really want to give you anything at all at this point, not even that hope… But it's hard to deny to myself that I'm enjoying this attention, even if it is all an elaborate fabrication.

Message 3:

I really shouldn't have sent that last message.

Sam felt his heart soar. Kurt _wanted_ this to be real; he wanted someone to be in his life that way. Sam hadn't thought that Kurt had a boyfriend before, but now he knew for sure. He was the only one approaching Kurt like this right now- possibly the only one ever to approach him this way - and it sent his pulse racing to think that maybe he _really did_ have a chance.

**no im glad u sent that message. i wnat u to beleeve me. im not lieing 2 u about any of this. u desserve all the attn in the world. i hope u no that. i want 2 give u watever u want me 2. ill earn all ur smiles**

He couldn't help the surge of optimism he felt rising in his chest. If he could just get through some of Kurt's defenses then he could really make this work; he could really have him, could really hold and kiss and touch him and be with him in all the ways he's always wanted to.

He was getting dressed when his phone sounded again, and he almost tripped as he pulled his pants up in an effort to get to it.

_Well I do tend to command the attention of those around me at all times, considering how fabulous I tend to be at any given moment, so I suppose you're correct when you say that I deserve all the attention in the world._

So yeah, Kurt had pretty much ignored most of what Sam said, but that didn't really deter him at all. He plopped down in his computer chair and sent out another message.

**of coarse u do. like i said, the way u walk like u own every1 arnd u is 1 of the things i luv about u**

_One of the many things you love about me, I'm sure. They are so numerous, after all._

Even the sarcasm was not going to put Sam Evans off the trail.

**thare r a lot of reesons 4 me 2 luv u. ur kind 2 ppl u care abt and u dont take crap from any1. ur cute when u act snobby. i like how u always mess w/ ur hair even tho ur beutiful no matter wat**

_I'm not beautiful right now, due to a certain nameless person who woke me before I got my full eight hours of sleep. Again, thank you for that._

Sam suddenly had the mental image of a rumpled Kurt, fresh from sleep but still bleary-eyed, with his hair messed up and a frown on his face.

**no i still bet u look cute cuz ur all sleepy and in pajamas and pissy loooking ;-p**

_How ever could you have assessed that I am in a pissy mood, I wonder? And here I thought I was being so subtle about it. Also, I must insist that you would not find me cute right now, considering that, if you were here, I would be bringing the wrath of god down upon your head for waking me. However, now that I have coffee in my hands, you might be spared the torture and be killed quickly instead._

Sam bit his lip, eyes sparkling with amusement as he typed back.

**i no ways i culd torture u. and give u a little death ;-)**

He closed his eyes, smiling, and waited. His phone went off again.

_…I am shocked on ten different levels right now. First of all, I don't know whether or not to be offended by that obviously sexual comment directed toward my person. Secondly, how the hell do you know about French euphemisms? Thirdly, when did you get clever with the way you flirt?_

**1st u shold b flatterred cuz it was me hitting on u. 2nd i pay attn in french even tho i do bad on tsets. 3rd ive always been clever u just didnt want 2 seee it**

_Firstly, you seem to have quite the ego on you, my anonymous admirer. Besides, how am I to know whether or not to be flattered if I don't know who you are? Second, French is a perfectly reasonable language. I'm quite good at it. Third, I still think you're a cheesy idiot._

**u think my ego iss cute and u luv how im cheesy. and french isn't bad but wehn its alredy hard 2 read in english u dont rlly stand a chance 2 read in other langages. im not bad at speking it tho**

Sam sent the message, then immediately realized his mistake.

He knew that it was pretty obvious how poor his reading and spelling skills were, but now he'd all but told Kurt about his dyslexia, and that little bit of knowledge would help him narrow down his suspects considerably. Quinn knew that Sam was dyslexic… Did Kurt? Did Finn? He couldn't for the life of him remember now.

His phone rang out again.

_So you're not necessarily just exhibiting ignorance and laziness with your god awful messages. You legitimately have a learning disability, correct? I'm guessing you're dyslexic._

Sam hesitated.

**yea. im dyslexic. makes txting kinda hard sometimes :-(**

_Well maybe if you'd give it up and say who you are, we could meet in person and really get to talk. I would be spared your horrendous spelling and you wouldn't confuse words for confetti._

Sam sat up fully, surprised at Kurt's suggestion to meet, then bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he texted back.

**mebbe we wil meet sooner then u think**

…Sam _almost_ sent that message out, but blanched and immediately deleted it. That would be giving away even more than he meant to.

But really… What would be the harm in Kurt discovering who he was before that stupid deadline? If he was going to find out anyway, why prolong the inevitable?

Sam didn't want to admit it - it left an uneasy feeling in his stomach when the thought came creeping up into his mind - but deep down, he knew.

He didn't want to reveal himself because, as long as he was anonymous, he didn't have to commit himself to anything. He knew that he'd be signing away normalcy by being with Kurt, and no matter how strong the pull he felt toward him, the realization that he would be facing high school hell was enough to ignite a blaze of panic in his mind.

He tried not to think about all of that. He really did. He wanted to be brave, wanted to reach for the hand that Kurt was extending to him, but when it came down to it, the foundation for his courage was faulty and threatened to crumble at any minute.

And underneath it all was that same coward who could do nothing but pine pathetically after the one he loved. He would have no one to blame but himself for those lost chances.

He sighed, mind heavy, and thought about what to say.

**that dose sound gud but i don't wnat 2 meet yet. can u wait just til midnite? i promis ull no by then**

He didn't know if that promise was empty or not.

He didn't want it to be, really he didn't.

But he didn't know.

_I really don't understand why you won't just tell me who you are, but if you insist on this ridiculous midnight reveal then I can't exactly stop you. I must say that my curiosity is half killing me, as I'd like to know if this is for real or if it's some sort of twisted joke._

Sam held his phone in one hand while he held his head in the other.

What was he even doing with all this?

**i promis u im not joking. pleas beleeve me when i say i luv u. and don't block me, pleas. i dont no wat id do if i never got 2 talk 2 u again**

His stomach growled angrily, and he checked the time on his phone - 9:00 AM. He'd totally forgotten about breakfast, but he didn't really feel like eating. His voracious appetite from the night before had apparently vanished.

_Like I said before, I'll decide whether or not I believe you once I know who you are. It would be imprudent of me to make that judgment call at the moment, as you could easily be some group of idiots out to make my life hell._

**so u wont block me yet, rite?**

_…As stupid as I know I'm being, I will give you a chance. I'll grant your wish and wait until you're ready, oh anonymous admirer mine. For now, though, breakfast is in order. You should eat as well. I'll talk to you later._

Sam exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, a soft, somewhat sad smile playing on his lips.

After all, Kurt was just as scared as he was. He still believed that Sam could be someone (or a group of someones) playing a malicious joke on him. He still thought it was all a lie, but here he was, giving it a shot anyway.

But Sam knew that Kurt was a hundred times braver than he could ever even hope to be.

If he could just… If he could just _grow a pair_, he could have all he wanted. He could have _Kurt_.

**ill go eat 2 than. ill txt u later. ill miss u. luv u**

He stood and pocketed his phone, scratching the back of his neck as he walked to his door.

'What do I do now?'

He walked out of his room and trudged down the stairs, his lack of sleep suddenly catching up to him.

And there was also… Well…

Even just knowing that Kurt wouldn't be answering his texts for a while was like getting slapped with depression again.

Even more depressing was… just how was he supposed to handle it if all communication was cut again? He was talking to Kurt, he had his attention, and if he couldn't keep it, what would he do then? But the only way to keep Kurt talking to him was by saying who he was, but by doing that, he was putting everything on the line.

Either way it was going to be bad, really, and all it really amounted to was trading one for the other: have Kurt, and risk everything he'd built up for his reputation; or lose Kurt, and continue on as he had been - brooding and sad and pathetic.

He honestly didn't know if he could mentally handle breaking ties again.

But maybe… maybe when (if) he told Kurt that he was the anonymous texter, he could just say that he was scared. He could just say that he needed Kurt, but that he wasn't ready to say it to the world. Would he understand?

Sam really, really hoped he would.

He got to the kitchen, opened the fridge. Saw nothing appetizing.

Went to the cupboards. Same story.

The Zelda sound effect blared through the kitchen, surprising him and almost making him jump.

He fished his phone out of his pocket.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

For some strange, twisted reason, I think I'll miss you too.

Sam felt his heart swell, happiness suddenly beating down all the negative things swirling through his head.

**i new u thot i was cute :-)**

He sent the text and pocketed his phone again, smiling this time.

He'd go through with this. By the time the new year rolled around, Kurt would know about these feelings that Sam had been hiding for months now.

And just like that, things seemed like they'd be okay again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here's chapter three! Thanks so much for the lovely reviews!

* * *

Sam thought that maybe he was a patient kind of guy, but he had to admit that waiting for Kurt to text him first was excruciating. He'd tried to distract himself - he logged onto WoW (he logged off within ten minutes, which was really saying something), started cleaning his room (he stopped halfway through but at least some of the laundry was in the basket and the garbage was off the floor), went on an hour-long run (this actually helped a lot), showered again (this was a good thing too), then microwaved leftovers and ate (he only ate half) - but he couldn't really stop the anxiety which came with anticipating a text.

He'd start-stopped sending a text (_that_sounded familiar) at least a hundred times, telling himself that he needed to wait for a text from Kurt so as not to bother the boy too much.

But it was getting seriously, _seriously_hard not to message him.

He glanced at his phone where it lay innocently on the bed, then turned to his computer. He stared at it for several long seconds before opening his browser and logging on to Facebook. Instead of immediately checking Kurt's profile (he was trying to be less pathetic, really he was), he clicked on his notifications to see that Finn had written something on his wall.

**Finn Hudson**  
hey man, heard you're gonna come over 4 2nite! its gonna b a blast. hope ur break has been good dude

Sam wasn't sure whether to roll his eyes or give a half smile, mostly because he was a wreck waiting for Kurt to message him, but partly because Finn was such a stereotypically good guy.

Sam sighed.

At least Finn hadn't been afraid to date Rachel. If Sam were a better man, he wouldn't be afraid to date Kurt, either.

As it stood, he was still stuck in a mental standoff - reveal vs. not reveal.

If he were honest, he would have to admit that there was probably no way he could go back to not talking to Kurt - not without side effects of the very negative variety. And he couldn't maintain anonymity forever anyway, even if Kurt chose to continue to talk to him without tracing the number. Something would have to give, eventually, but it was that _eventually_that Sam was so scared of.

He'd already decided to rip the band-aid off tonight, to tell Kurt who he was and leave the ball in his court. It would be a lot of weight off of his shoulders for Kurt to know what this heavy thing in his chest was. Maybe then he could breathe again.

But then there were the things that could come after that - if Kurt accepted his feelings and decided to return them, what then? If Kurt rejected him outright, how would he deal with that?

These questions, these stupid goddamn _worries_were really starting to get to Sam, and he itched for a distraction. He glanced longingly at his phone again, but turned back to his computer and opened up Facebook chat. He scanned the list of contacts, and when his eyes landed on one particular name, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

**Kurt Hummel**

'Shitshitshit! What do I do? Should I talk to him? Would that be too obvious? What do I say? He's never online. Why is he online? Does he really not want to text me that badly? He hasn't sent me anything. I want to talk to him. I could talk to him here. I could ask about the party tonight? Fuckshit what do I do?'

Sam clicked on Kurt's name, and the chatbox popped up. The cursor blinked at him, completely unaware of the clusterfuck currently crashing around Sam's head.

He swallowed, and typed as carefully as he could.

**hey. im coming to youre house tonite. will i see you thare?**

His finger hovered over the enter key, and there was a long moment where Sam didn't breathe at all.

He manned up.

He hit enter.

And the message never went through.

**_Kurt Hummel is offline._**

He let out a whooshing breath and dropped back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to shake off the nerves that his attempt to start up a Facebook chat had riled up in him. God, this was ridiculous. Why couldn't he just be normal around Kurt? Why couldn't he stop his stomach from falling out of his gut whenever he was faced with being found out?

If he was still this scared, how was he ever going to admit who he was?

He raised his hands to his face and the pulled them down over it as if trying to wipe away the _stupid_.

The _Zelda_sound effect blared from his phone, and Sam snapped his head to the side before scrambling out of his chair to reach it.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

Hello again, oh anonymous texter. I am taking a break from that awful assignment that's due the day after winter break ends (murder me), and I thought that I'd get some sort of mild entertainment from you while I procrastinate.

Sam smiled, thanking whatever deity was listening that Kurt had _finally_messaged him. His stomach unknotted and he sat down on his bed as he texted back.

**that dose suk. y did they give u sumthin 4 the break? thats srsly lame. and i can entertane u in moor ways than 1 ;-)**

_Your terrible pick up lines are good for a laugh, at least. And I'm convinced my professor assigned this paper simply to be cruel. I have been working on it for three days, not counting all the reading I did, and I'm still only half way through my draft._

**u luv how i flirt w/ u. but i srsly hate riting so i wuld hate 2 do that rite now**

_I'm sure being dyslexic doesn't help with that, either. But enough about anything related to school. What have you been up to?_

'Nothing, just sitting here waiting for you to text me… Ugh, I really am ridiculous.'

**nm just went 4 a run showerd and ate. been kinda bored but mosly i missed u**

_I'm sure you were devastated to not get to talk to me for those four hours we were apart._

Sam sighed.

**dude u have no idea**

_Message Sent_

…Oops.

Sam actually found himself not freaking out over that. Well, relatively speaking. He wasn't as freaked out over accidentally hitting 'send' for that message as he was for sending the text that had started it all… But still, here he was, his eyes wide and a sound half between a groan and a wail escaping his mouth. He grimaced and lowered his phone, ashamed of how disgustingly _desperate_he sounded.

(It didn't much matter that he actually was quite desperate, but still. He was trying to maintain _some_ dignity. Maybe. Fine, so what if he was failing miserably? _Fuck it_.)

_I didn't realize you were so clingy, Mr. Anonymous. I may have to rethink our relationship, as I'm not currently sure whether or not you would make a good accessory to any of my perfectly coordinated outfits. I'm very picky about accessorizing, you know._

Sam's doofus grin spanned his face in a way reminiscent of a child's drawing of a stick figure's smile - too wide to be really human but certainly conveying a look of great happiness.

**i wuld b moor then a acsessery. id b the only thing on u ;-)**

_Now I'm definitely amused. And you seem to think very highly of yourself. The more you talk, the more I realize just how big your ego is. I don't think I like it very much, even if you are somewhat entertaining._

He swiped blond hair out of his eyes as he sat back. He could take this down one of two pathways: heavy, borderline inappropriate flirting; or back-pedaling apologies.

He decided to go for the latter. Innuendos about the size of his dick just didn't seem like they would go off very well, given the way the conversation was going.

**im not the bset in the wurld at everythnig but im gud ware it counts an i try hard 2 b better**

Sam had to wait a few minutes for his phone to go off again.

_I suppose your ego isn't as big as I was thinking; most people with over-sized egos don't realize that they can be better people. I do hope your "where it counts" wasn't just referring to the bedroom, however, because while I'd like my boyfriend to be good at that, I'd like it even more if he loved me like I need him to._

Sam bit his lip. All this… saying all this was so much easier in an anonymous text message. And with his imminent reveal looming over his head, he suddenly felt like he had to say everything _now_ or risk losing the words forever. His mind felt more clear than it had in a while - even if his breathing _was_a little shaky - as he sent his next message:

**im gud at both ;-) but srsly i give everythnig in relashonships an i alredy luv u in every way i cna so im basicly perfect 4 u**

_Perfect for me? And what makes you so sure of that? You won't even tell me who you are, so I still don't know if this is real. And if it is, what then? How do you plan on sweeping me off my feet in your oh so perfect ways?_

Sam didn't know where he'd messed up, but he could definitely feel Kurt's defenses rising quickly. Where he'd been playful before, he was serious now, and Sam had no idea how to get him to drop his guard again.

**ull no who i am soon i promis. thare r jus things i need 2 say 1st that im scared 2 say if u alredy no who i am but i promis i cna make u happy 1 day**

But that was another promise Sam wasn't sure he could keep. After all, how could he make Kurt happy if he wasn't brave enough to be with him? He would probably have to go public with his feelings and his bisexuality before Kurt would even consider being his.

He'd gotten himself into such a mess. He was going to put everything on the line for a boy who might not even want to even attempt to return his feelings.

His phone went off again before he could get too deeply into thought.

_Can you really adhere to that promise?_

Sam frowned and scratched the back of his neck.

**ill try 2. ill rlly try**

He sighed for probably the thousandth time that day, setting his phone next to him and laying back on the bed, stretching out his back from where he'd been sitting hunched over his phone.

It went off again, and he picked it up, holding it over his face to check the message.

_Do or do not. There is no try._

Sam blinked. Did Kurt really just quote what Sam was thinking he quoted?

**did u rlly just qoute yoda?**

_Yes. Since I could not choose better words to use, I figured that I would bow out to the words of someone far wiser than myself._

A soft smile spread across Sam's face, and he lifted the phone over him to text back.

**i think i just feel in luv agian**

_So do you think you can make me happy?_

**i no i will make u haappy**

Sam closed his eyes, praying to someone, something, _anything_that he could man up tonight, that he could keep his promises to Kurt and that everything would be okay.

He could do this. He could tell him. He could ask for Kurt to wait for him, to wait until he's ready to tell everyone. He'd tell Kurt that he loved him, wanted him, but that he was scared, that he needed a little more time to come to terms with things and that when he did he would make everything perfect.

He'd say to Kurt that he would make him happy, that he'd be there for and with him and he'd never let him go.

That's what he would do.

He wasn't a liar, he _wasn't_, so he had to do this.

He would do this.

_We shall see then, won't we?_

Sam raised his eyebrows.

**so ull give me a chacne?**

_My dear anonymous, all I've given you are chances. So a word to the wise, if you're real: do not fuck this up._

**i wont. i wnat u 2 much 2 mess up**

Because he did, didn't he? He needed this too much to fuck it up. He really, really did.

_Good. Then by midnight tonight, I expect to be a happier person. It's all on you now, sir. For the moment, however, I must return to this assignment, and then after that, I'm afraid, I must get ready for a party. Enjoy your new years eve, but remember the caveat. You have to tell me who you are tonight, or I will cut ties with you completely._

Sam let out a stuttered, shaky breath.

**i no. ill tell u. hvae a gud nite and ill txt u soon**

* * *

This was worse than the four hours he'd spent anticipating a text from Kurt.

_Infinitely_worse.

It was only two in the afternoon when he and Kurt had stopped texting, which meant that it would be six long hours before the party.

Sam was itching underneath his skin, and seriously considered going on another run to calm himself down, but decided against it as he was already tired from lack of sleep. Tossing and turning the night before combined with waking up early and then feeling jittery all day was really taking a toll on him, and even though his first run had helped immensely, he honestly didn't think he'd make it to midnight if he went for another.

And that was a time he _absolutely_could not miss.

So he found himself laying in bed, attempting to sleep, but was shifting positions every two minutes because apparently his bed, usually suitable for a god in its comfort level, suddenly had lumps in it, was too soft or too firm, and would absolutely not let him find a position he could sleep in.

He did manage to sleep for an hour - possibly the most fitful hour of sleep he'd ever had (at least in Life Before Kurt) - but it did almost nothing to sate his exhaustion.

And so he sat, at 5:00 PM, anxiously awaiting the time where he could fix his hair, shave, pick out an outfit, and venture to the Hummel-Hudson household.

It took him half an hour longer than usual - so 35 minutes - to pick out what he wanted to wear. He settled on a green t-shirt with the white _Green Lantern_symbol on the front, paired with his dark blue zip-up hoodie and jeans (that were just a little tight) and his standard black vans.

He had only been aware of his choice of clothes a few times in his life, but now was certainly one of them. Casual but not messy… That was the look he was going for.

He checked his hair, which was thankfully not screwed up from his three hours of laying in bed, which included the actual hour where he'd slept, and then shaved as cleanly as he ever had before in his life.

There may have been a nick or two on the underside of his chin, but a spot of tissue paper here and there quickly remedied the problem. It's not like he was too self-conscious about it, but he _knew_that Kurt, in all his flawless glory, might notice and care. So yeah, fuck it, maybe he was self-conscious after all.

Because, well, this had to be perfect. It _had_to be. He couldn't risk mucking this up, or all hope would be lost and he'd be blocked and Kurt would never talk to him again and it would be - !

He looked at himself in the mirror, and manually forced himself to calm down.

It would be fine. All of it would be fine. He would get past this; he would tell Kurt the truth and then it would be out there and thus completely out of his control.

So yeah, there he was, ready and willing to go.

And yet there were still three hours left before the party. The whole shebang started at 8:00 PM, which meant that he should show up at 8:30, considering the only people that would be there at 8:00 would be Rachel and the people who lived there.

(If nothing else, Rachel was always on time.)

So he sat, twiddling his thumbs, wasting his time on playing _Halo_, then a game of _League of Legends_(which generally took about an hour), and paced his room for a good fifteen minutes before heading out to his car and making his round-about-way to the Hudson-Hummel household.

He showed up at 8:30 on the dot.

Finn answered the door, all grins and "hey dude!", and Sam nervously made his way inside.

Only to not see Kurt…

…for an hour. Artie and Brittany were already there.

"What up playa?" Artie said, holding out his hand to do a fist bump. The familiarity of it all was calming Sam down from the anxiety he felt due to the fact that Kurt could pop up at any time without forewarning.

"Not much dude," he offered back, fist-bumping Artie. The wheelchair-bound boy opened his fist and wiggled his fingers as his hand moved down. Sam looked at him weirdly.

"You gotta make it rain after we bump."

Sam smiled and shrugged.

"Whatever you say man," he said, turning to Brittany. "Hey there."

She ignored him.

"Hey Artie, can you make it snow, too? Rain is too wet and it ruins you hair."

Sam and Artie shared a look.

"Sure, I'll go for snow next time."

Brittany smiled and kissed him on top of his head.

"You're so awesome!"

After that they settled in waited for others to arrive. It didn't take long for everyone else to show up, thankfully, and even though Sam thought his stomach was going to fall out from nerves, he drank punch (which was not spiked, to his unhappiness), and ate cookies (much to his diet's chagrin). Mostly he ate and drank just to have something to do with his hands so he wouldn't bite his nails down to the quick.

He was calming down some, but his nerves really _were_fried to hell and back.

Puck and Santana - with a few other random people - showed up fifteen minutes after Artie and Brittany, with Quinn and Mercedes not far behind. With Puck's arrival, the punch got much more _interesting_.

Tina and Mike appeared at the front door after that.

…And fifteen minutes later, Kurt made his debut.

Sam had been standing innocently in the kitchen, sipping his fourth cup of punch (the special punch - he was honestly a little tipsy and Puck was spiking it just as fast as Finn could make it), and then there opened a random door that he had seriously thought was the cupboard.

And Kurt stepped out, in all his immaculate glory.

Sam felt his pulse speed up, his mouth going dry even as he attempted to swallow the strawberry-something cocktail he was currently trying to get down.

Kurt stood in a simple black sweater and black skinny jeans, complete with a classically matched grey belt and scarf. As he looked Kurt's body up and down, his dry mouth suddenly watered, and he swallowed multiple times after his sip of punch in order not to openly drool in front of everyone else.

Kurt sauntered across the kitchen, smile wide and inviting as he greeted everyone sweetly… He kissed Mercedes and Quinn on the cheek (Sam was absolutely _not_jealous), and said hello to everyone else.

Santana was a little drunk, opening her arms to Kurt in a rare show of affection, saying, "It's our favorite fairy in those tight-ass girlie pants!"

Sam had to agree about the pants, but he certainly wasn't complaining about them.

Kurt frowned, but his eyes were smiling.

"Well if it isn't our favorite Latina with someone _not_in her pants for once!"

The dark haired girl mock-glared at him, eyebrow raised.

"I'd kick your ass for going there, but it doesn't matter because my reputation for good sex is spotless, and I'm not about to argue otherwise," she scoffed.

"Oh please, we all know I'd beat you so fast in a fight that you wouldn't even have time to cat-scratch me with your poorly manicured nails."

Santana was half starting to get pissed, but obviously brushed it off as she responded.

"You can take that up with Coach Sylvester; I'm sure she'd have a couple things to say to you."

"I think I'd rather eat my foot than talk to her about manicures. God only knows where _that_conversation would lead."

Kurt laughed a bit, and Sam almost melted, happy as he was to hear that particular sound. He hadn't heard Kurt laugh since a week before he left McKinley.

Kurt grabbed his own cup of punch, took a sip and then half-gagged as the alcohol reached his his tongue.

He didn't stop drinking, however, which gave half-drunk Sam a boost of confidence.

People migrated to the main room, where the pizza lay waiting to be eaten and the music played through the speakers.

Sam made small talk with the people that were there, which consisted of the glee club and a few other people from McKinley that Sam recognized but didn't really know all that well. But his eyes were following Kurt all night.

Kurt had mostly stuck to talking with the girls, though he had talked to Puck a few times (and laughed, Sam noticed, green with envy), and Artie was at Brittany's side so that was pretty unavoidable as well. He stayed a noticeable distance away from the majority of people Puck and Santana had brought with them.

Sam also noticed that Kurt wasn't downing all that much punch.

Negative score for Sam, who was drinking relatively heavily to hopefully make him man up and go talk to him.

A few people had been talking in the kitchen, but as thirty minutes to midnight was called, Sam noticed Kurt stand to leave, following Mercedes and Tina. He took a deep breath, got up, and left to follow them.

The kitchen door swung shut behind them all, but Mercedes and Tina only grabbed a few cookies from the counter before heading back into the den (both girls were driving that night, so no punch for them. Sam looked down at his own cup, and vaguely wondered whether he'd be okay to drive). Kurt, however was still there.

He had a cookie in his mouth and was walking toward the punch.

(In other words he was maddeningly adorable.)

Once Mercedes and Tina left, he and Kurt were the only two left in the kitchen.

...It had to be now, didn't it?

Now or never.

It was already 11:30, after all. He was running out of time.

He walked over to where Kurt was downing his last bit of punch, turning to go for a refill. Sam took a deep breath, tried to still his shaking hands by shoving them in his pockets, then spoke.

"What have you been up to?"

Kurt looked up at him, surprise written across his features.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said (what he probably meant was that he wasn't expecting Sam to talk to him). His face was honest and curious, and his expression softened into a light smile. "But I really haven't been up to much. I have a monstrous paper due immediately when classes resume, but other than that life has been going relatively smoothly... Aside from dad freaking out over my Christmas credit card expenses, of course," he finished with a small laugh.

Sam smiled back, eyes twinkling, nerves frayed but voice calm as he asked another question.

"How is Dalton? I heard that school was academic hell. I dunno if I could do it."

Kurt's smile faded a bit.

"It's okay, I suppose. The coursework is difficult but the school itself is Neandrathal-free and thus ideal for the resident gay kid. And I'm not the only one there, either, so I actually have someone to relate to, which is kind of nice."

Sam clenched his fists (as much as they would clench) in his pockets, mind buzzing with the fact that there were other gay boys at Dalton, and that they were out and open and Kurt knew about them and probably already had a crush on one and Sam was gonna lose his chance and it would all be really, really horrible.

He closed his eyes briefly, slowing down his brain, but he'd obviously taken too long to respond, considering that when he opened them again Kurt was giving him an awkward look.

Sam scrambled for something to say, completely aware that he already looking stupid.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's pretty awesome for you. I mean, you can talk to other gay guys about… you know… gay stuff?"

Oh god Sam was so lame.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between cautious and amused.

"Yes, I suppose we do talk about a lot of gay stuff. You know. About being gay."

Sam scratched the back of his neck.

"I didn't mean it like that, really, I just… I mean…" he sighed. "What I mean is that I didn't really get to talk to you all that much before you left and I just was wondering how you're doing."

Kurt smiled again, and with that smile Sam's heartbeat picked up, suddenly pounding in his temple as butterflies had a parade in his stomach. He picked up his drink and took another gulp.

Liquid courage.

"I'm doing fine, really. I appreciate you asking, Sam, you but you really don't have to worry or anything. Life is going well, I assure you."

Sam smiled, taking his other hand out of his pocket and leaned back against the counter. He was pretty buzzed, and so he went for asking the thing he really wanted to ask.

"Anything interesting happen over your break?"

Kurt shot him a look as he refilled his cup, his eyes guarded. His answer was hesitant, even as he pulled his phone out to check it.

"Not really," he started, pocketing his phone when he saw he had no new texts. "I seem to have acquired somewhat of a stalker, but that's about it."

Sam blinked.

Stalker?

"Is it the good kind of stalker or the bad kind of stalker?" Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Did Kurt really look at him as a stalker?

One of those delicate eyebrows raised.

"I wasn't aware that there was a good kind of stalker. But I suppose that if you had to put this person into a category, it actually would be the good kind of stalker. Unless, of course, it's someone playing a rather cruel joke on me," Kurt watched Sam intently, looking as if there was something that Sam didn't know. "Which I'm really hoping it isn't."

Sam swallowed hard, eyes going somewhat wide as he realized that maybe Kurt knew more than he was letting on about those anonymous texts. His hands started kind of sweating, and he swished his hair out of his face as he looked away from those shining blue eyes.

"Well I hope that it's not a bad thing," Sam said, half feeling uncomfortable and half worried, "'Cause playing a joke like that is just mean."

Kurt seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. His expression twisted into a playful smirk.

"I've dealt with much worse; I don't think a little thing like this will be much of a blow to my mental state, which, currently, is set on 'happy'. So if this is a prank, the people perpetrating it can just shove it up their asses."

Sam laughed loudly, partly because he was afraid that Kurt would still be mad at him when he found out it wasn't a joke, but mostly because he'd never heard Kurt talk like that before.

Sam's expression slipped for a minute, and he suddenly felt panic rising as fifteen minutes till midnight was called.

His laugh became a bit hysterical, so he squashed it out before asking, "So what is this stalker of yours like?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed, but his smirk remained.

"Why so curious?"

"I just… I mean… I was wondering because…?"

Sam was saved from his rambling as Kurt looked down to check his phone again.

He swallowed hard, putting down his useless drink, unable to stop his eyes from widening as anxiety started to pulse through his body like little electric shocks.

"Why do you keep checking your phone like that?"

Kurt slumped a bit, pocketing the device, seemingly not having heard Sam's pathetic mumbling from just a moment ago.

"No reason, really. I was just getting my hopes up, foolishly, over something that I thought could have been real."

Ten minutes until midnight was called out from the den where everyone else was gathered.

Sam could only watch Kurt's face as disappointment flooded his features.

"Something real?"

Kurt hesitated. "Just something I thought was genuine - my stalker - that turned out to be yet another joke," he said, sighing heavily. He looked up at Sam with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We should go back to everyone else. Wouldn't want to miss the new year, right?"

He made to walk around Sam and leave the kitchen, and barely took a step before Sam jumped after him and caught his arm. Kurt turned and looked at him curiously.

"Yes?"

Sam's heart was in his throat. He looked down, trying to gather himself. He could see everyone's shadows from where they moved in the light of the den. He looked back up to see Kurt's inquisitive face.

"I want… I want to tell you…"

But he couldn't get it out. His mouth was dry, and he was choking on his tongue. His pulse beat erratically and his nerves were on fire and he couldn't focus on anything but Kurt's face.

"Sam?"

He dropped Kurt's arm where he'd been holding it captive, and pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely get the message out.

Kurt stiffened when his _Bad Romance_ringtone sounded, and had Sam been paying any attention to that detail, he would have laughed at Kurt's choice of ringtone for his anonymous texter.

But everything else was silent and in black, and all he focus on was Kurt pulling out his phone, eyes wide, and checking the text.

**im rite in fnort off u**

Sam could see it when realization hit Kurt, and his heart stopped for a moment as he watched Kurt struggle to react. His face was like a kaleidoscope of emotion - mostly surprised and confused - before it finally stopped shifting and settled on shock.

He looked up at where Sam stood, heart still stopped.

"It's you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee and am in no way affiliated with the show or its creators.

**Authors Note:** Chapter four! I'm taking liberties with the timeline, because I know that Dalton's dorms probably wouldn't let students back as early as I'm allowing here, but whatever. It's my story; I do what I want! :-P

God I'm silly…

**Edit:** Went back and inserted missing page breaks. Urgh. Damn you ff.

* * *

"It's you."

Sam swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and all he could do was nod.

Kurt's face softened.

"I thought it might be you."

Sam exhaled heavily, his entire body tingling as if waking from sleep. He lowered his hands slowly, shaking to the point where he almost couldn't even put his phone in his pocket. Relief began to pool in his stomach, but was frozen at Kurt's next words. That sweet expression suddenly hardened as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the counter.

"But I didn't want it to be you, because then it would be a lie," he said, voice calm as he opened his eyes and looked at the floor, brows furrowed. "It crossed my mind so many times, but I just couldn't hope for it to be true. It couldn't - _can't_-be you."

Sam could hardly breathe. He was only taking in little pulls of breath, and struggled just to keep himself standing upright. He was shaking even more - he was shaking so badly that he could feel his hand practically vibrating as he ran it through his hair.

"Wh-why," he started, but his voice caught in his dry throat. He swallowed and started again, "Why can't it be me? It's… it's real, Kurt, I swear to you it's real, so… So you have to believe me." he said in a rush, half fumbling over his words.

Kurt looked up at him with watery eyes.

"How can it possibly be real?" he questioned, expression strained. "You're not even _gay_, Sam. You only broke up with Quinn barely a month ago. You can't even… you're just not... what the hell is going through your head?"

Sam bit his lip harshly, frustration starting to overtake panic in his mind, but when he didn't say anything, Kurt continued ranting.

"All those flirty texts? All the "I love you's"? God, Sam, just how badly did you want to make a fool out of me? Who else knows about this?"

"No one! No one else knows," Sam burst out. "I wasn't trying to make a fool out of you!" Sam's eyes darted back and forth between Kurt's. "And Quinn… she doesn't have anything to do with this! And I'm… I'm not gay. I don't know, Kurt, but it's not about that! Please, just… just…"

Sam looked away, trying to gather himself.

The cheers for five minutes to midnight rang out from the den.

Kurt pushed himself off the counter.

"It _is_about that, Sam. You told me you loved me, but you're not even gay? It doesn't work that way. And didn't you tell Quinn you loved her, too?" An angry tear escaped Kurt's eyes, and Sam could see him wiping at his face even as he intently watched the floor. "How am I supposed to believe that this isn't just some sort of twisted joke?"

Sam could feel Kurt's eyes searching his face, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him. Sam's hands fisted at his sides, and his mind raced uselessly, going a hundred miles an hour but giving him nothing to say to Kurt.

"I can't do that, Sam. I can't be this uncertain. Even on the extraordinarily small chance that you're for real, what do you want me to do? You can't even admit what you are, so how do you expect to be with me?" Kurt let out something between a sigh and a sob. "Just… we'll forget this. I'll forget this happened and I'll forgive you and we'll both move on with our lives."

He turned and started to walk away, but he didn't move fast enough to escape. Sam grabbed his arm again, whirling him around so suddenly that Kurt almost lost his balance.

"I'm not joking! This isn't a joke!" he half-shouted. "And I… I'm not… I'm… I've been…"

Panicked green eyes met watery blue.

"I love you."

Kurt stood, shocked, face contorted into some awful expression that made Sam's heart constrict in his chest to the breaking point.

"You have to believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me and please give me some time, I just…" Sam said, trailing away at the end even as his eyes remained desperate and his hand still gripped Kurt's arm harshly.

Kurt looked away.

"I can't," he said, looking back up at Sam, placing his hand on top of his where the Sam held tightly to his arm. "Let me go, Sam."

The ten second count down started from the other room.

"No," Sam said, swallowing hard. "I won't."

Five seconds.

Kurt's eyes searched his.

"Sam what are you-"

Midnight.

Time stopped, Sam's heartbeat slowing to nothing in his chest as he breathed in and yanked the burnet forward, crushing his mouth to Kurt's.

He felt Kurt inhale sharply, and he pulled back a bit, not parting from Kurt's lips but easing up the pressure. His eyes were shut tightly and he took in Kurt's scent, electricity pulsing through his body. His left hand moved up to cup Kurt's face, holding him there as he kept kissing him while the happy cheers and the sounds of the noise makers flooded out from the other room.

After several long seconds, Sam pulled back, opening his eyes to see Kurt's surprised and… fuck, he was scared? There was fear in that expression, and Sam instantly released him.

Kurt took a step back, hand coming up to touch his lips. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and he looked as if he were in a different place altogether.

Sam watched as Kurt came back to himself. Kurt lowered his hand and took a shaky breath, standing tall as he looked up at Sam.

"My dad," Kurt started, voice breaking a bit. He stopped and swallowed before trying again. "My dad once told me that… That I need to wait for someone as strong and brave as I am, so," he took another breath. "So unless you can go out there and kiss me in front of all of them," he motioned toward the door to the den, "This conversation ends here, and we won't ever speak of this again."

Kurt stood in front of him, waiting, and Sam didn't know what to do.

He just knew that he couldn't do what Kurt was asking him to do. All the words he'd prepared, all the things he'd thought of to say to Kurt about asking him to wait, about how he was scared… All of those things disappeared from Sam's mind.

He looked away.

Not another word was said as Kurt walked past him, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the calls of "happy new year!" sounding from the other room.

He got his keys out of his jacket pocket and walked as quickly as he could to the front door. When he made it out of the house, he ran to his car, cranked it up, and pulled out of the driveway as fast as he could.

As he drove home, his mind was blank but for one word.

'Fuck.'

* * *

Sam drove home on autopilot, numb to everything and his head fuzzy. He walked in to find an empty house - his parents were still at some party or other - and did something that he'd never done before.

He raided the liquor cabinet.

He didn't drink often, so as he looked through his parents' selection, he honestly had no idea what to drink. He knew from movies that he'd need a chaser, so he'd gotten a coke from the refrigerator. He scanned the shelves, and went for a familiar label - Jack Daniels. He grabbed the bottle and a shot glass, slamming both items down on the counter.

He was mechanical as he poured the amber liquid into the glass, not even bothering to cap the bottle before he picked up the shot and downed it.

It burned all the way down, a slow, deep burn, and when it hit his stomach Sam felt his mouth water like he was going to throw up. He immediately took a swig from the can of coke, which calmed the angry burn and drained the taste of the alcohol from his mouth.

The shiver up his spine from the licking flames of raw liquor distracted him from the clusterfuck of horribleness that threatened to start screeching through his brain. But as the feeling faded, the pressure to think increased, and he glanced down at the shot glass, wondering if he should try for another.

Most of the alcohol from earlier had worn off during his stupid, fucking _stupid_encounter with Kurt, and so he decided that one more couldn't hurt.

So he poured another and down it went, somewhat easier than the last, but still leaving him with a numbing after shock.

He grimaced even after drinking the coke, but still looked hesitantly at the bottle before taking another breath.

One more. One more and not a drop after that.

That would be fine.

Right?

(As stated previously, Sam Evans didn't drink all that often, so he wasn't exactly aware of what three shots of liquor in under ten minutes would do to him.)

And so he cleaned up, replacing the whiskey and washing out the shot glass before putting it back up as well. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, trying to focus on anything but the overload of thought that threatened to spill out at any minute.

He got up to his room and immediately stripped and changed into pajamas. For a brief, insane moment he considered burning the clothes he'd worn that night as if _they_had something to do with his fumbled confession to Kurt, but nixed that idea and decided instead to just try to sleep.

He flopped back on his bed, then realized he'd left his phone in his pants.

Hm. Maybe he should burn _that_. It was the source of all his troubles, after all.

(Couldn't be his fault, anyway.)

He made to sit up again, but suddenly the room was spinning and everything felt _heavy_. His vision was swimming and his mouth was watering and oh god, he was _drunk_.

He pushed himself up, rolling forward a bit too far and nearly crash-landing head first on the floor in front of his bed.

In fact, that seemed like a good idea. Not falling over, of course, but crawling. Yeah, that'd do it.

Standing was way too much effort anyway.

So he let himself slide forward until his knees and hands hit the floor, and there he stayed for a second while he got his bearings.

Sam kinda half grinned to himself, proud, until he remembered the original mission - to retrieve his phone - and at the thought of the device that had started this whole fiasco, he immediately got angry, pissed off that everything had fucked up so badly in the end.

But then sadness, intense and ungodly _sadness_overtook him, and he felt the rejection from Kurt which was the evidence his cowardice, and finally grasped that everything was his own goddamn fault.

So there Sam was, on all fours in his room, with frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. He was mad, he was mad as hell and depressed and he didn't have any way of taking it out. He wanted to scream, he wanted to have a replica of himself there so he could punch it in the face. He wanted to burst into tears and curl into a ball and cry until he passed out from exhaustion.

He wanted Kurt there, he wanted Kurt there so he could beg him to let him redo everything, so that he could tell him that yes, he'd go out there and kiss him in front of the whole world if only Kurt would be his.

But he knew he wouldn't do it even if Kurt were there. He didn't have the strength, didn't have it in him to face everything with the same brave face that Kurt did.

Sam let himself drop and roll onto his back, everything hazy even as he rubbed at his eyes, willing himself not to cry but losing the battle badly. He breathed harshly, panting and choking on half-sobs, broken thoughts swirling in his head and not allowing him time to regroup and really think things through.

The alcohol was pumping hot in his veins, making his emotions explode, push-pulling him around in his own head until he thought he'd break into a thousand little pieces.

In a burst of strength, Sam rolled over and crawled to his pants, drunkenly searching the pockets before managing to locate his phone. He stumbled as he stood up with the device in hand, and tears were rolling down his face as he collapsed on his bed.

He didn't have any idea what he was typing, but there it went, sent across digital space.

**m osry plas don tb mad i lvu 2 mch i jus ned u 2 wate 4 meee**

He lowered his hands and the phone dropped next to him. He shut his eyes tight, the tears on his face cooling and leaving tracks down his skin.

And he promptly passed out.

* * *

He woke up the next morning with a head full of metal and a raw stomach and the urgent need to go to the bathroom. He groaned, his back aching from where something hard and _evil_was lodged in it. He rolled over and groped around on the bed behind him before finding the lump of horribleness, also known as his phone.

And yes, the device _was_pure evil, as he originally thought whatever he was sleeping on would be.

He dropped the offending object onto his bedside table (it's charge was dead, anyway) and then rolled himself up into a sitting position, giving another pained moan as his entire head seemed to throb with his heartbeat. He stood and went to the bathroom, digging out the aspirin from one of his drawers and popping two. Immediately after swallowing the tablets, he stripped and stepped into the shower, the tap turned on as hot as he could bear it.

Ugh.

He noted to himself that, if he ever drank again, so much at one time was _not_ a good idea. It should also be noted that he was a light-weight. _Duly_noted.

He was half thankful for feeling like shit, however, because it was a momentary distraction from thinking about how badly he had fucked up the night before. Those thoughts would come stampeding through his brain soon enough, but for now he was in the safe haven of his shower.

He was sitting down in the tub, letting the water wash down his body. God, he hadn't done this in years, but it felt amazing at the moment. All was quiet, minus the gnomes trying to dig diamonds from the crevices of his brain, and he sighed as he allowed his body to relax.

It would be the last relaxing moment he would have for the next three days.

When the tap began to run lukewarm, he stood and actually washed himself and brushed his teeth, finishing up just as the water started to go cold. He stepped out into his steamy bathroom, grabbing a towel and drying off before heading to his room and getting dressed for the day.

He had sighed after pulling a shirt over his head, and was just beginning to turn on his television when it hit him like a tidal wave.

He blew it.

He totally, undeniably, and thoroughly blew it with Kurt.

He fell into a sitting position on his bed, his eyes squeezing tight as yet another awful groan tore itself from his throat. He could feel his mind picking up in pace as thoughts like _you're an asshole,_ and _you completely fuckered this one, Evans,_ and _he probably hates you now,_ and _he thinks you're an idiot and a dick_swirled around dramatically behind his eyes.

Jesus fuck, he'd even forced a _kiss_ on Kurt, and it had only served to scare the shit out of him. God, could it really have been any worse? Well, he supposed Kurt could have slapped him, but… Fuck, he really had screwed it up. He hadn't said anything that he'd wanted to say, he'd tripped over his words and even went so far as to tell Kurt that he wasn't actually _gay_, managing to leave out the part where, yeah, he's actually _bisexual_; no wonder Kurt didn't believe a word out of his mouth - nothing he'd said made any sense and none of it added up, either.

He shook his head and it gave an echo of a throb, the remnants of his headache still lurking, but it was dull enough not to really bother him. He looked up and saw his phone out of the corner of his eye, frowning deeply as he picked it up. He tried to turn it on but then remembered it was dead, and so went to plug it in even as he was still wigging out on himself in his head.

He took a breath and turned the damn thing on.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

He blinked, stunned, and his thumb moved to automatically open the message.

_Either you're drunk or your dyslexia has taken a turn for the god-awful. Either way, I'm only sending this to tell you that I stand by my original statement: we'll forget this ever happened and simply move on. I'll see you around, Sam._

The sting that Sam felt in his chest was sharp and bitter, making his breath catch and his eyes squeeze shut yet again. When they opened, he scrolled through his phone to look at his sent messages, and viewed the one he'd sent in his overly emotional drunken stupor - it was barely decipherable, but he got the gist of it: I'm sorry, please don't be mad. I love you too much - I just need you to wait for me.

How fucking pathetic was he? God, it just got worse and worse…

He put his phone aside (before he got mad enough to throw the damn thing against the wall), hung his head, and tried really, really hard not to just scream and cry and generally throw a tantrum.

He managed, but only just barely.

Just like he would manage, but only just barely, to get through the next day and a half.

* * *

Sam was walking up to a front door.

Sam had walked up to this front door and turned around three times now, but he was determined, as he walked to this front door for the fourth time, that he would not turn around again.

After all, it was rude to walk laps in someone else's front lawn, and, too, the neighbor who was checking their mail was probably thinking about calling the cops on the freak in front of the Hummel-Hudson household.

And so he walked, determined, and used his momentum to hit the doorbell as soon as he was at the door. Now that he'd actually rung the doorbell, it would be really ridiculous if he turned around and walked away.

Well, he supposed he could _run_away, but…

He shook his head.

No. He'd do this. He had to do this.

After all, Kurt hadn't responded to a single one of the ten various 'I'm sorry' text messages Sam had sent since that awful night, and this was the _only_thing he could think of that might get Kurt to talk to him.

And - _oh god_- he could hear someone coming to the door. His feet threatened to turn him around and run him back to his car, but he fought it, staying firmly planted where he stood, but desperately wanting to be anywhere else.

He had a mini freak-out in his head as he debated who would answer the door - he hadn't looked to see what cars were in the driveway, and the garage was closed anyway so it's not like that would've helped - so for all he knew it could be Kurt himself or, terrifyingly enough, _Mr. Hummel_.

The door swung open to reveal Finn standing there in his big dopey way (how anyone stood like a dope was beyond Sam, but there it was nonetheless), and Sam exhaled the rather large breath he'd been holding. Finn looked surprised, and when Sam only stood there, he fidgeted, obviously feeling awkward.

Sam came to his senses.

"Is… uh," _come on Evans, get it together!_"Is Kurt home?"

Finn looked relieved to have the silence broken, but confused by the question.

"Nah, dude, he went back to Dalton this morning. Something about a paper and not being able to focus at home. I mean, I was playing _Black Ops_so I kinda wasn't listening…"

Sam looked down, one thought blaring like a foghorn in his mind.

'He left because of _me_.'

"Sam? …Dude, are you alright?"

Sam looked up to see Finn's furrowed brows and concerned, bewildered look. God, he must have looked like an idiot in the taller boy's eyes; he could feel how twisted his expression was right now. He was guessing he looked very deer-in-headlights.

That was not a look that he could rock, even on a good day.

"Yeah," he breathed, voice kind of shaky as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down and away. "Yeah man, I'm cool," he looked back up at Finn, a small, fake smile on his face. "Just wanted to talk to Kurt before he headed back. Had something I wanted to say. No big deal though, I'll Facebook him or something."

Finn was still looking at him funny.

"Alright man," he said, and then a hopeful look crossed his features. "Wanna come in and go co-op with me on some games? Kurt hasn't been home to play and Puck's been blowing me off, so I've got a bunch of achievements I haven't unlocked."

Sam really, really didn't think he could handle being in Kurt's house at the moment, it being the scene of his epic failure and everything.

"Uh, I dunno dude. I've got some stuff to do back home, and…" Finn's face fell, and Sam felt like an even bigger asshole than he had for the last two days, and that was saying something.

He sighed, and found himself agreeing to come in and play for an hour or two. Finn's whole countenance lifted up, and Sam felt his fried nerves easing somewhat at the simple happiness the taller boy was radiating.

He ended up staying for four hours, steadfastly avoiding the kitchen _at all costs_, but headed out around 4:30 to go wallow in misery at home, alone.

He just couldn't believe that Kurt had dipped out like that. He'd just… left. Not even a word to Sam, no response to any of his messages, just… Nothing.

Did Kurt really hate him that much? Enough to leave Lima so early just to go back to school? God, this was worse than Sam had originally thought.

He was exhausted, too. His sleep the last few nights - really, since he'd started texting Kurt - had been awful, and he'd been going on harder runs each day in order to ease his nerves. His body was giving out, and he didn't know how much longer he could deal with all this.

So when he got up to his room after coming home from Finn's, he went straight for his bed and hit the pillow already asleep.

He woke up two hours later to the _Zelda_ringtone zinging out from his phone.

His eyes cracked open and he sat up, bleary eyed, not even thinking as he picked up his phone to check the message.

_1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel_

He was immediately awake.

_I just talked to Finn, and he said you stopped by today looking for me. Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but I can't drop my heart into the hands of someone who can't even admit who they are. Call me when you're ready to face yourself._

Sam's heart was beating heavy and fast in his chest. He hit reply and started typing.

**i'm sorryy ok? u no watt its like 2 b scared. and im scared. pleas can we talk?**

He held his breath as he waited for a reply that might not even come. He guessed he might as well die of suffocation, since his life couldn't get any worse. He was idly wondering if one could suffocate themselves by holding their breath, when his phone went off again.

_This conversation ended when you let me walk away on New Years._

Sam's heart fell into his gut, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

**y wont u talk 2 me? pleas talk 2 me**

The return message left Sam at a loss.

_I wish you luck in finding yourself, Sam. But until you do, I'm afraid that we can't speak to each other. This is goodbye, for now._

Sam wanted to cry, wanted to throw his phone in frustration because Kurt wouldn't even _talk_to him. Instead, he just sent one last desperate message.

**just giv me a chanec**

He sat there for several long moments before he stood and threw his phone onto his bed as hard as he could, and watched as it bounced, unharmed. He collapsed onto his knees next to his bed, and shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could be just be _brave_.

* * *

'What the fuck am I _doing_?' Sam asked himself for the millionth time as he drove steadily down the highway.

He was either very brave or very stupid, and he was hoping for the former, considering he really, really needed to be brave to carry out this haphazardly formed plan.

The GPS blared at him to _exit highway on the right at: Mulberry Avenue_, and Sam tried to make himself stick to the determined autopilot mode that had him skipping school and driving to Westerville in the first place.

It was Wednesday, January 5th, and he was supposed to be in fourth period back at McKinley. But no, he'd gotten in his car that morning and seen that his gas tank was full… Which had somehow led his thoughts down the path that he had to go to Dalton _now_, before he did anything else, and clear up everything with Kurt.

So he'd googled the address from his phone, plugged it into his GPS, and off he went, to hopefully succeed in the crazy mission he'd set for himself.

But the closer he got to the all-boys school, the more ridiculous this whole thing seemed. Sure, it had been fine to say that he'd go sweep Kurt off his feet when he was still parked in front of his house, but now that he was twenty minutes out from Dalton, this was starting to look like an absolutely insane idea - how the hell was he even supposed to _find_Kurt? Fuck, would he even be allowed in the school, or would he have to ninja his way onto the campus?

Just keep driving. Just keep driving.

Goddammit, all he could see now was Dory trekking along through the ocean, singing that stupid song. Ugh.

_Tun right on: Academy Road_.

Sam swallowed thickly as he turned his car down the aforementioned road, his GPS telling him that he was about four miles away from his destination.

Miracle of all miracles, he was totally zen for the rest of his drive. Until he saw the sign for Dalton.

And then he _almost_had another panic attack.

He checked his breathing, trying to slow it down even as his heart rate accelerated. Despite the hell he was going through internally, he continued to carefully drive his car, and figured his best bet was to go for "Student Parking."

When he got his car parked, he shut off the engine and gripped his keys in one hand and the steering wheel with the other.

…It wasn't too late to turn back. He could just go home, tell his mom he played hooky, get in trouble and carry on with Life Without Kurt. Which was, admittedly, quite horrible, but… Maybe it was better than following through with this stupid, stupid idea he'd had.

'Fuck it.'

He got out of the car, and walked as quickly as possible to the courtyard, feeling awkward and extremely out of place in his jeans and winter coat. It had to be lunchtime, if all the boys headed toward one particular building indicated, and there were quite a few stares being directed at Sam, who was walking around aimlessly, scanning the crowds for Kurt.

Sam walked around in search of Kurt for five minutes before exactly what he was doing caught up with him: he was in another town, almost three hours from home, looking for a boy who didn't even want to see him. He froze in place, staring at the ground, breathing heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to panic - he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and sticking out and being stared at and he _still_couldn't find Kurt - and then made to turn around and run straight back to his car.

But he ran right into another person.

He jumped back in surprise, realizing he'd just smacked into a dark-haired boy who was currently taking a step back. The stranger put his hands in his pockets and chuckled.

"Careful, there," the other boy said, a warm smile on his face. "Sorry I was right behind you, but I was just coming to see if you were okay. You looked sorta… lost."

All Sam could do was blink stupidly for a moment, before he finally came to his senses. His right hand immediately went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I'm…" he started, stopping when he didn't have any real explanation for why he was there.

The dark haired boy raised his eyebrows, motioning around him as he asked, "Looking for someone?"

Sam glanced down at the ground, his determination coming back to him as he looked up and nodded. "Yeah. I'm looking for someone."

The other boy looked at him expectantly, and Sam just stood there for a moment before realizing he was expecting him to say _who_he was looking for.

"Do you… Um," Sam cleared his throat. He knew he was looking like an idiot in front of this other dude, but he couldn't help it. He had electricity pumping in his veins from nerves and he could barely talk as it was. "Do you know Kurt Hummel?"

Dark haired boy looked extremely surprised for a moment before covering up that look with the same kind smile he'd been wearing when he first spoke to Sam. He seemed to be assessing Sam, taking in his nervous eyes and anxious face, before he spoke.

"Yeah, I was just headed to meet him for lunch, actually. You can come with me, if you want."

Sam nodded again, and the other boy started walking, Sam following him a step or two behind.

"So, are you a friend from Lima?" he asked, making small talk as they headed toward the building Sam guessed was the cafeteria.

Sam wasn't quite sure how to answer that, but knew he was taking too long to answer, and so just blurted, "Yes. Um. Yeah," he took a breath, "We were in glee club together."

"Ah, I see," the stranger said. "Let's hope you're not here to spy then."

Sam was going to backpedal and apologize, but they'd stopped in front of the building and the boy was smiling at him. Sam offered a feeble smile of his own.

"Nah, not here to spy," Sam said, lamely, somewhat aware that he should be following that up with the real reason he was there. The other boy didn't push, however.

"I'll go get him then. Wait here."

In the five minutes Sam waited, he nearly turned tail and ran about eight times. He was more anxious than he thought he'd ever been in his entire life, freaking out internally and nearly jumping up and down to kill off some of the nerves. That, and it was fucking freezing outside.

He looked over as the cafeteria door opened, and out walked the dark haired boy with Kurt in tow.

Sam's heart stopped.

"…Sam?" he said, voice incredulous and expression echoing that heavily.

Sam nodded dumbly, swallowing hard before managing, "Uh… yeah. Hi."

They just stood there, after that, and the dark haired boy looked back and forth between them before turning to Kurt.

"Should I just… go…?"

Kurt came out of his shock, placing his hand on the stranger's shoulder.

"Yeah. Sorry, Blaine, but if you'll excuse us?"

Blaine. Sam knew that name, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at him.

_Courage_.

'Fuck him and his courage,' Sam though viciously. Blaine glanced at him awkwardly before stepping back.

"I'll leave you two to it then."

And then he was gone.

Kurt walked determinedly forward, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him around the corner of the building. He stopped, dropping Sam's arm and turning around with his arms already crossed over his chest.

"Explain to me just what the hell you're doing here," Kurt said, voice calm, but expression fierce.

Sam laughed a little, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the ground and then back up at Kurt.

"Honestly?" he asked, and Kurt rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I have no idea."

Kurt looked at him like he was an idiot. Which, granted, he was, but still.

"You're telling me you drove _three hours_and you don't know what you're doing here," he stated much more than asked, and Sam couldn't help but smile a little.

He'd always had a thing for Kurt's no-nonsense attitude.

He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, shoving aside all of the panic-stricken thoughts in his head. If he could just keep his mind clear for a second, he could get this out.

"Kurt," he started, fumbling for a moment before finding his next words. "Look, I'm scared, okay? I know you know what it's like to be scared. I'm not lying when I tell you I… that I love you. I'm also not gay," Kurt looked ready to interject and Sam continued quickly, "I'm bisexual. I've known for a while now, even before I met you," Sam shook his head slightly before locking eyes with Kurt, "But that shouldn't even matter, because I'm just in… in love with _you_."

Kurt looked at him for a moment.

"What do you want from me, Sam? What do you expect me to do?" Kurt looked back and forth between Sam's bright green eyes. "I can't hold your hand while you're in the closet. I deserve better than that. I need someone who will be proud to be with me, who can-"

"I can be all those things, if you'll just let me!" Sam blurted, surprised at himself. He reigned himself in, trying to get back some of that calm that had been with him when their conversation started. "I don't know how I'll do it, but if you'll give me a chance, then I will," Sam held Kurt's gaze, stepping forward. "I'm lost, Kurt, I'm scared. I'm not as strong as you. Can I just take it slow?"

Kurt took a step back from Sam's step forward, narrowing his eyes.

"How slow?"

Sam exhaled, shoving his nerves into a box in the corner of his mind.

"I'll tell some people. Some people we can trust, and then I'll go from there," Kurt looked skeptical, as if he was about to say something to turn him away again. Sam stepped forward a few paces, backing Kurt into the wall as he continued, freaking out more than a little bit. "I'll tell some people, and then when I'm ready it'll all come out and then I'll deal with that too and I don't know how I'll do it but if you'll give me some time I can and… God, can I kiss you?"

Kurt stared at him, expression as shocked as when he first saw Sam standing outside the cafeteria, before he gathered himself and put his hands on Sam's chest, pushing him back.

"No. No, I don't think so."

Sam stepped away, looking down at the ground. _Idiot_. Why had he blurted that out? He started to apologize, but Kurt beat him to speaking.

"However," he started, straightening his coat and fixing his scarf. "If you'll pick me up at my house Saturday night at seven and take me to a _nice_place to eat, and perhaps a movie, then I'll consider giving you a kiss goodnight when you drop me off."

Sam stopped breathing for a moment before his expression changed over to hopeful shock.

"Really? You're… You'll let me take you out?"

Kurt smiled at him.

"I'm giving you a shot, Evans. You'd do well not to disappoint. If you change your mind and have decided that you're afraid to be seen in public with me, please call me by Friday afternoon so that I won't drive all the way to Lima for nothing," he said, stepping up to cup the side of Sam's face with a gloved hand. "You can take it slow. It doesn't have to be all at once. But if you're afraid to even go out with me then I'm going to have to turn you away until you're brave enough to stand by my side."

Sam's bare hand came up to hold Kurt's in place, and he leaned his face into the touch.

"I can do this," he said, eyes never leaving Kurt's.

"Good," he said, pulling his hand away and turning Sam so that he could take his arm in his. "Now, I'm starving, and I'm guessing you didn't eat on your drive here. I can't guarantee that the teachers won't see you and throw you out, but Dalton boys are sneaky. I'm sure if you go to the back dining area no one will be the wiser." Kurt opened the door and pulled Sam in behind him by the hand. "Just follow me."

If Kurt smiled at him like that, Sam knew that he'd follow him to the ends of the earth.

"Sure."

For the first time since everything had started, Sam felt truly at ease, his heart racing, but for all the right reasons. As Kurt introduced him to his Dalton friends, all he could think about was the day that he could change that introduction from "my friend, Sam" into "my boyfriend, Sam."

When Kurt went to get him food from the main dining hall, Sam pulled out his phone.

**thnak u. i luv u**

Some of the boys around him laughed when his _Zelda_ringtone went off.

_Maybe one day you'll get back an 'I love you, too.' :-)_

And Sam thought to himself as he grinned widely,

'Yeah. It'll be okay.'


End file.
